A Life in Many Iotas
by Somnum Careat
Summary: Fragments of Mercutio, Benvolio and their lives together. A series of connecting one-shots, mainly AU. Mercutio/Benvolio
1. Chapter 1

Benvolio stalked across campus, scarf flying out behind him. The other person hurrying from building B to dorm C went to call out a greeting before noticing the uncharacteristically grim look on his face. Shoving open the heavy door to the dorms, Benvolio nodded a terse greeting at the TA on duty and climbed the two flights of stairs necessary to reach his dorm room. Sharply unlocking the wooden door, he strode in and shoved his jacket and scarf in the general direction of the coat rack. Flopping down onto the couch, he pulled his phone out.

_**Would it be tacky of me to tell the two girls I just found out he's been sleeping with on the side that I've been having gay sex with him all semester? **_

Not a second later, Romeo's response lit up the small screen of his rather old cell phone.

_**? Mercutio?**_

_**No, your father. Of course I mean Mercutio. Who else have I been having sex with? Though really, the question is who else he has been having sex with.**_

Shifting slightly from his uncomfortable position, Benvolio frowned at his own dramatics. He felt foolish the more he thought about his anger. It wasn't exactly like he and Mercutio had agreed on being exclusive, though he had thought that was implied in the fact that they roomed together, went out occasionally and had sex. But apparently not.

_**It's news to me. BTW, have you seen Juliet anywhere?**_

_**Nope, I've been busy in class. Speaking of which, I've got a paper due next week I need to finish up.**_

Stretching languidly across the back of the couch, Benvolio grabbed his laptop from the table that usually held the mail off the floor. While he waited for it to power up, Benvolio leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The soft click of a door went unnoticed by him until a soft kiss landed on his cheek. Jerking into a seated position, heart racing, Benvolio whipped his head around to find a lanky blond sitting on the floor.

"Ah dear Benvolio! Off in the land of Queen Mab I see," Mercutio commented, eyes glinting happily. Calming himself, Benvolio opened up his document and began typing. "No response? You wound me so. I was in class today, and the professor began to speak at length about the condition of the human psyche when…" As Mercutio rambled on, Benvolio found his eyes straying from the computer screen. He often was distracted by Mercutio, but remembering his anger, Benvolio began forcefully typing. Scooting over to lean against the couch, Mercutio began playing with the hem of Benvolio's shirt.

He bore it for a moment before shifting over and snapping "Please don't touch me at the moment."

"Have I done something to offend you?" Mercutio jested.

"Perhaps you should ask Rosaline or Helena. I believe they'd know." He knew it was a childish response, and while he normally avoided fighting with Mercutio, it felt good. Standing in preparation for a dramatic exit, a hand on his wrist stopped him. Mercutio clambered to his feet and looked at Benvolio imploringly, something soft in his gaze.

Benvolio waited, though his conscious was berating him for the mere act of standing still. "Where did you hear of this?" Mercutio asked, voice sharp but quiet.

"So it is true." Swallowing around the odd feeling in his throat, Benvolio looked away. "I suppose I shouldn't be too hurt. I'll… I'll begin moving my things back into my room." The sun shone through the window; a blatant contradiction to Benvolio's mood.

Pulling his hand out of Mercutio's grasp, Benvolio turned and began to walk towards their- Mercutio's room. "Of course it is not true!" Mercutio darted in front of Benvolio and grabbed hands. "Some churlish miscreant by the name of Tybalt has been spreading horrific rumors about me. Jealous, most likely. Who would not be? Why, even Apollo, beauty himself, pales in comparison." Benvolio cocked an eyebrow in slight disbelief.

"I am to believe that you haven't been sleeping with women? We never officially agreed that we were together. I don't-"

Mercutio jumped in, his whole being inflamed with energy. "As I am to believe that you trusted me so little? Benvolio, my sweet love, it is you, as it has always been, since the tender age of nine. I am not your cousin, apt to fall in and out of love so lightly. Neither distance nor death can force me to cease loving you, nor certainly not two women who I am barely acquainted with."

Looking slightly down out of embarrassment, Benvolio smiled. He knew that it was silly and foolish, but he could not help but be pleased at Mercutio's impassioned speech. "For me, as well, it is the same way."

A teasing glint appeared in Mercutio's eyes. "What?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Oh, but I will be so very sad. Do you still not believe me?"

With a slight sigh, Benvolio let go of his hands and wrapped his arms around Mercutio's waist. After he responded in kind, Benvolio leaned forward and touched his forehead to that of Mercutio. "Only you," he whispered. "As it has been and as it will be."

A/N: I'm not quite sure on this one. I don't know. However, I know that I ship Mercutio/Benvolio like crazy. Those reading _Working Boy_, it'll be updated this weekend. The first text comes from Texts from Last Night. Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

"Why don't we begin with why you're here Mercutio," said Dr. Moore, pushing her thin framed glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Looking contemplative, Mercutio tapped a finger on his jaw. "Well isn't that a difficult question? Did it start with my parents meeting at work? Or was it when they got married? Of course, I didn't come into play until later, but was it truly me or-"

"I meant why you are here. In my office."

"Ah. That may be an equally difficult question. I am paying you to listen to me talk though," he smiled and gave a light shrug. "I'll start at the very beginning. My first time meeting Benvolio was at a hospital. I had been shot. Most fortunate for me, the man who did so was better with a knife than he was with a gun. When I came to, it was to a most handsome nurse. I didn't and still don't believe in any nonsense like love at first sight, so there was none of that. However, after I was released, I convinced him to go out with me, just to a small Italian place. I had quite the fantastic time, and we agreed to meet up again," Mercutio paused for a moment, seemingly caught up in his own past.

"After about two years, we moved in together. It's a horrendous apartment, looks like it belongs in the Dark Ages, if not for the appliances. A few weeks later, once we were settled in, we decided to cook dinner. Cook being a matter of opinion really. We dumped some canned soup in a pot, heated it up, and sliced some bread. Later, we went up to the roof together. The view from there is one of the few redeeming factors of the place. We sat and talked of nothing, and in the soft silence, he began to hum. It was one of those songs I'd always thought no one knew of but me. The night was clear and quiet except for his humming. It was then, right then, that I knew that I loved him. I had known it before, but at that moment, I was aware that I wanted to spend my life with him, humming on the roof. I asked him recently if he remembered that night. He gave me this blank look, and I suddenly wondered if I had conjured the whole thing up in my head."

Dr. Moore nodded, sympathy alight in her eyes. "So are you here for couples' therapy? I didn't see anyone else in the waiting room. Also, I don't really do that, as I'm not trained in it."

Shrugging grandly, Mercutio leaned back in his chair. "No, no. He doesn't know that I am here. I told him I am picking up an extra shift at work. I don't believe in couples' therapy. If we have a problem, we'll work it out. Honestly, I'm not sure exactly why I am here. I suppose I thought that it would be best to talk to someone who wouldn't tell Benvolio."

"There was one curious thing you just stated. You said that if Benvolio and you had a problem, you two would work it out. Then why not tell him this?"

Slumping a bit, Mercutio passed a hand through his hair. "I don't want to worry him. His cousin just tried to commit suicide and I do not want to place more pressure and anxiety on him. I may have a fear that our relationship was merely some fantasy I dressed up to make it prettier that it was, but I do love him. Plus, how do you suggest I bring that up? Casually ask if our relationship has not meant much to him? He is calm, and I have rarely seen him upset. However, I doubt he'd take my accusation lying down."

Jotting down a few unseen things onto a pad of paper, Dr. Moore looked Mercutio straight on. "You appear to wonder if you love him more than he loves you."

Mercutio smiled fleetingly. "It's a bit pathetic. If he doesn't love me anymore, then I believe I must move on. Something in me doesn't want to give up quite yet though."

"Then don't."

Grimacing as the call button rang yet again; Benvolio quickly stretched the kinks out of his back and hurried down the hallway to room 217. The patient was in for some stitches after falling down the stairs, but one would have thought that they were dying based off the number of times they requested assistance.

"What can I do for you ma'am?" Benvolio asked, silently gritting his teeth. He knew it was part of a nurse's job to be polite and caring, and usually he managed that just fine. But if patient #4920 hit on him one more time, he was requesting a wing change.

After taking her sweet time applying some lip balm, patient #4920 looked at Benvolio, likely in an attempt to be sexy. Sadly, she ended up looking a bit nauseated. "So, I'm going to be released today. How about you and me meet up for some one-on-one nursing, if you know what I mean?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled. A slight feeling of terror washed over Benvolio and he took a cautious step backwards.

"Not that you aren't a lovely woman, but I'm gay. And in a relationship." He felt a bit bad lying; he was actually bi, but she didn't need any form of encouragement.

"Maybe you just haven't met the right woman yet. I could be that woman."

"If you do not have any legitimate requests, I will be leaving," After loitering for an undeniably awkward minute, Benvolio turned and left. All most as soon as he returned to the nurse's station, the call button lit up again, indicating that he was needed in room 220. The patient there rarely called for help, and as they were in for internal bleeding, they probably actually needed something. Glancing at his watch briefly, Benvolio frowned. There was still six hours left in his shift.

Fiddling with his keys while juggling his heavy bag, Benvolio managed to unlock the door with two tries. Dumping his bag next to the door, he slid off his shoes and went to go lie down on the couch. Mercutio beamed at him from his perch on the foot stool near the couch. He was unusually dressed up, wearing black dress pants, a white button down, and a dark blue bow tie. His hair appeared to actually be combed. Exhaustion making him uncaring, Benvolio followed through with his original plan to lie down and ramped it up, closing his eyes and curling up a bit.

"Come, get up! We're going out tonight, to a most wonderful venue. Ask me no questions about it, for I may give you no answers until we are there. Hurry now, quickly to your feet," Mercutio said with his usual maniac energy. With a noise like sleepy dog, Benvolio rolled over to face him.

They made eye contact for a moment; Mercutio's dancing blue eyes to Benvolio's partially open brown ones. "'M not going anywhere tonight. Much too tired." Only from having spent so many months with him was Benvolio able to catch the small slump of Mercutio's shoulders and the spark of disappointment in his eyes. "…I am going to go get ready for bed. Please, Mercutio, get changed and join me," Benvolio sighed quietly and made his way to their bedroom.

Taking a moment to swear, Mercutio got up and followed him, untying his bow tie as he went. Stripping off his pants and shirt and dropping them near the laundry basket. Grabbing a pair of fetching argyle pyjama pants that a friend had given to him for his birthday and quickly tugging them on, Mercutio joined Benvolio in the bathroom. Giving a slight smile around his tooth brush, Benvolio turned his attention from the newcomer back to brushing his teeth. Reaching around Benvolio, who was rather in the way of the sink, Mercutio squeezed some blue, hideously minty gel onto his tooth brush and began to vigorously wash his teeth, crazy facial expressions included. Having spit out his toothpaste foam when Mercutio was distracted, Benvolio began to wash his face, relishing the feeling of cleanliness. It always made his day even worse when questionable fluids managed to reach his skin at the hospital. That tended to lead to him scrubbing at his face with a paper towel in the men's bathroom, hoping that whatever was wrong with patient wasn't contagious.

After rinsing out his mouth, Mercutio casually leaned over and dropped a kiss on Benvolio's cheek, merely because he could. "Not tonight," was his only response before turning and heading to their bedroom.

Flicking the bathroom light off, Mercutio smirked. "Whatever do you mean? Are you trying to insinuate something?"

Benvolio tossed him a tired look and climbed into bed. He had managed to take off his scrubs and had placed them on top of Mercutio's discarded clothes. Yawning, he patted the bed next to him. "You know what I mean. I'm sorry I was too tired to go out tonight, but please don't be upset. Just get into bed with me. How did you put it yesterday? It is time we go join the fairy queen her domain," he trailed off at the end, speaking more to himself than Mercutio.

Clambering into bed next to Benvolio and pulling the covers up to just underneath his chin, Mercutio flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, plunging the room into darkness. With a small petulant scowl, Mercutio whispered, "That wasn't why I was upset."

Barely holding a frustrated groan in, Benvolio faced where he could sense Mercutio was. "Then pray tell why you are upset." He didn't voice how close he was to just falling asleep, and how little he was really listening.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm being stupid, honestly. I don't want to bother you, and I'll be over it by morning. Just being a tad… insecure I suppose," he sighed and shifted, the bed sheets rustling. "Shouldn't have mentioned it. Just go to sleep love," Benvolio was able to tell that Mercutio was being truthful, but it still bothered him.

Benvolio internally debated the merits of actually listening to Mercutio and falling asleep or trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Neither seemed to be particularly favourable. His sleep deprived mind alighted on the brilliant idea of trying to comfort Mercutio without knowing why he was upset. Physical comfort was out. What usually helped was sharing good memories. Perhaps it made him focus on something better; Benvolio didn't really know and didn't really care at the moment. Searching through his mind for something suitable, Benvolio began to talk.

"Hey, do you remember that time we went on a picnic with Romeo and Juliet because it was their one week anniversary or something ridiculous like that? And you brought a kite, and when I told you I'd never flown one, you became dead set on teaching me. Of course, that day there was literally no wind, so you ended up just throwing it in the air over and over again and I'd run every time, though it would crash almost instantly. God, that was a fun day," Benvolio said quietly into the artificial night, a smile soft on his face.

There was silence for a moment. "I cannot say that that is a memory I am able to recall."

Benvolio semi-shrugged and curled into Mercutio's side, closing his eyes yet again. "Eh, we all remember different things. G'night, love you."

Laying an arm over Benvolio, Mercutio, too, closed his eyes. Funny how Benvolio managed to say what Mercutio needed, even if he didn't know it. "Love you too. And thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

And he's stumbling back, surprise flashing briefly across his face. A hand rises slowly to just under his ribs. Tybalt stands there, smile large and sadistic. Words come pouring out of Mercutio like a flood and can no one but you see how he winces and presses his hand in harder? He's near you now, and you have to contain yourself, stop yourself from reaching out and holding him like you do when you're away from this bright sun and the words and stares that you know would come. Falling to his knees, he keeps talking, but now he's demanding a surgeon and there's an urgent tone you've only heard once before and that's neither here nor there.

He's biting his lip so hard that it's white like a bone, and a dot of blood creeps out from behind his hand. A cry rips itself from your throat, but it's quiet, under control, and no one's heard you, it's okay still. Heaving himself to his feet, Mercutio grabs your hand and his palm is chapped and hardened, but familiar. Everything's changing and you can't keep track of it all, but maybe if you just stood here holding hands it would be okay. He's pulling you away from the crowd and cursing the world, calling for death upon their families. He hopes they truly do suffer, you can tell from the look in his eyes. It's despair, mixed with anger, mixed with loss, mixed with you can't even tell anymore and you're not sure you want to.

An arm of yours is around his shoulders now and he's leaning into you, pale and drawn. He's shaking slightly and you want to mutter soothing things to him like he does for you when you wake up from another screaming nightmare of darkness and death and not a single exit. But it's not the time and you lie to yourself, tell yourself there'll be time tomorrow. You're in an empty hall that connects the church to something; you can't be bothered to remember where. You do remember the time when Mercutio dragged you here after a party, drunk and happy, and kissed you roughly against the wall, shirt loose and eyes dark. You do remember him not talking to you for a week after, before coming to his senses and showing up with a book you'd been looking for. But now Mercutio sinks on to a bench and you help him lie down, brushing his hair off his forehead. You're kneeling next to him and the stone floor is cold and hard and that just doesn't matter. He lets go of a shuddering breath and the red spreads across his doublet and he takes his hand off his wound and it too is stained crimson. He's grimacing, eyes shut, and you just don't know what to do.

You pull out your handkerchief and press it against his side, but it's too late, you realize in a flash and goddamn it, you can't handle this. He smiles at you now, soft and sad, not like he smiled at you an hour ago. He mutters something about Cupid's butt-shaft and you shouldn't laugh, he's dying in front of you, but you can't help a short chuckle. It sounds nervous to your own ears and he places his blood covered hand on top of yours. It's sticky and slightly unpleasant, but you'd give anything for it to stay there, alive and warm. You lean down and press a kiss to his lips. It's dry and quick and not the slightest bit romantic. You can feel his breathing getting less and less and you don't think you've ever been this scared before. The feeling rips into you and your heart feels like it might just explode. The blood under your hand is coming out fast now; your handkerchief is utterly soaked. He raises his other hand and traces your jaw lightly and his hand drops before you can fully lean into it. Your eyes go wide and you say his name over and over again until it's nothing but a blur with no meaning, but he doesn't respond. You drop your head down on his chest, right over his heart and there's nothing there anymore. Nothing from the nights you spent together, from when he would smirk at you during the day, from when you would sneak off together during parties and no one knew a thing. His blood is wet on your face and you should be disgusted, but you don't care and you can feel tears beginning in your eyes. They run off your face, hitting his chest with finality.

You know you have to get up and go back and act like you weren't just crying on the chest of your dead whatever he was to you. Lover? Paramour? You'd never discussed it. And you'd have to tell them that Mercutio was dead; tell them that they had best be happy, because you certainly weren't. But you can't get up, can't leave Mercutio's corpse on this stone bench, alone in death. Sometimes when the world was dark and he was next to you, he'd tell you how he felt like there was nothing real in the world and you didn't know how to respond, you just held him and he held you and then you knew what he meant. You swallow, but the tears don't go away and you lean back and take in the stillness of his death. You can't recall the last time you saw him still; even in sleep he moved. You rub a hand over your face, knowing it's smearing blood and tears across it and you don't care at all. You struggle to your feet, legs feeling weak and useless. You have to do this you keep telling yourself, have to get up or else you may just stay here, falling deeper and deeper into a mire of sadness. With one last glance to Mercutio and a silent promise to make sure that he has the burial he deserves, you step outside, blinking in the stabbing, laughing light.


End file.
